“Please don't,” I whisper as he's just inches away from kissing me. “If you don't want anything more, it's just cruel.”
“What if I do want something more?” he says, his dark blue eyes flicking up to mine.
“More…” I repeat, rolling the word around my tongue. “What kind of more?”
“I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I've tried fighting that feeling, I've tried reasoning with it, but it just keeps getting stronger. I have to give in—I need to. I can't tell you I know exactly what this will look like…I've never done anything like it. But I promise you that when I'm with you, I'll be with only you. And I want you to be with only me.”
I stare up at him. That's still a lot of unknowns, but I sense that he's giving me everything he can right now. Plus my heart is about to beat out of my chest, and my resistance is giving out.
“Only you,” I nod, before reaching around his neck and pulling him toward me. Our lips meet in an open kiss, our tongues finding each other’s and mingling with desperate passion. He presses me back against the cushion, his hands grasping my waist over the blanket and quickly moving up and over my breasts. I arch my back into him, wanting to feel him against me…feel him everywhere.
“You guys home?” Nate jumps away as we hear my mom's voice from the foyer. He takes a deep breath and then runs his hand through his hair before responding.
“We're in the den!” he calls back, then turns to me. “Tonight,” he murmurs, his eyes burning with promise.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Are you OK, Brynn?” my mom asks me, frowning.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I reply lightly as I use my napkin to try to clean the tomato sauce off my shirt where I've just spilled it. Nate's promise of an evening rendezvous has left me clumsy and distracted throughout dinner. I had just finished cleaning up the glass of water I knocked off the table when I dropped a piece of chicken off my fork and onto my shirt.
“Sorry I couldn't make it today, guys,” Pierce says. “Looks like you could have used some more supervision. Nate shouldn't have taken you on any dangerous trails.”
“Oh, it wasn't dangerous,” I rush to Nate's defense. “He was trying to teach me how to spot poison ivy, actually, and I walked right off the trail. I didn't realize how close I was to the edge and the ground just gave way under me. It was all my fault. He was the one who pulled me back up and taped my ankle.”
“Well, it couldn't hurt to get it looked at by a doctor on Monday,” my mom points out.
“I think it'll be fine, really,” I insist.
“Anyone want dessert?” my mom asks.
“No, thanks,” Nate and I both respond at the same time. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“What's so amusing?” Pierce asks, looking at his son, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Inside joke,” I reply quickly. “I'll help you clear the table, Mom.” We both stand and grab a couple plates and head into the kitchen. As soon as the swinging door shuts behind me, I hear Pierce's voice. Even though his words are muffled, I can tell by his tone that he's berating Nate for something. I look at my mom. She turns on the water and begins rinsing off the plates before putting them into the dishwasher. “Is it OK with you that he talks to Nate like that?”
“It's between the two of them,” my mom replies quietly without looking up at me.
I feel anger surge inside me. “You keep trying to make us a family, but then you won't get involved in their relationship. You can't have it both ways.” Before she can reply, I spin back around and into the dining room. Pierce breaks off abruptly as I enter the room, and I quickly clear the rest of the dishes before limping upstairs to my room.
I take a deep breath as I close my bedroom door behind me. I don't want to have this night ruined by my anger at my mom and Pierce. I head into the bathroom and turn on my shower. I still haven't had a chance to wash off the sweat from our kayaking and hiking trip today, and I want to smell like a rose tonight.
My body tingles in anticipation as I peel off my shirt and shorts. I glance down at my wrapped ankle, wondering if it's OK to get wet. Probably fine. I pull off my sports bra and underwear and then study myself in the mirror, running my hands over my breasts and then across my stomach. Nate's already seen me naked, I remind myself, as nerves surge up in my stomach. And I already know he likes me. It will be OK.
I step under the hot stream of water and take my time washing my hair. As the conditioner sets, I shave my legs and my bikini line, going a little bit narrower than I would normally. I know that a lot of girls at college go completely bare, but I can't bring myself to go that far.
I turn off the water and towel myself off, then part my hair in the middle and let it air dry. I pull a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a camisole from my bureau and put them on. I'm not sure if that's sexy or not, but I'm trying not to overthink it. I'm certainly not succeeding, but I am trying.
I head over to my computer and sit down. I know that Nate will probably wait for our parents to go to bed before he does anything, so I've got a couple of hours to go at least. I begin to click around the internet, but I'm not able to absorb myself in anything. I keep wondering what's going to happen tonight. I don't want to get my hopes up, but I think I have an idea. Or at least, I know what I want to happen. I finally decide to play some mindless TV on Hulu, and settle back in my chair.
“Goodnight, Brynn!” I finally hear my mom call as she heads up to the third floor. I freeze.
“Goodnight!” I call back, and immediately begin pulling at the ends of my hair. I keep watching TV until I hear Pierce heading upstairs, too, then quickly close my computer and hurry into the bathroom, wincing as I put too much weight on my right ankle. I run my fingers through my hair and decide I should brush my teeth. Just as I'm putting my toothbrush back down, I hear a soft knock at my door. My heart jumps in my chest.
I walk back into my bedroom just in time to see the door open and Nate stick his head in.
“Hi,” I murmur.
“Hi,” he replies, taking a couple more steps in and closing the door behind him. I smile at him nervously. I suddenly have no idea what to say—the usual ease of conversation between us is replaced with jittery nerves and excitement. His appearance right now isn't helping matters. He's barefoot, and wearing jeans and a V-neck white t-shirt. He looks impossibly, effortlessly sexy. “I can't remember the last time I was nervous with a woman,” he finally says.